


Signs

by flitterflutterfly



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterflutterfly/pseuds/flitterflutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay has been the lead expert in all things abnormal since he first built a non-working nuclear bomb in sixth grade and used it to frighten away the poltergeist in his school. The FBI, Interpol, MI-6… he’s worked with them all, traveling the world to save the day again and again. It was the curse of his status as an unbonded Guide that he never found a place, or a Sentinel, to call home. But when people start brutally dying all over the planet, Rodney ends up teaming up with CIA Agent John Sheppard and finds something he’d never even realized he was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs

**Author's Note:**

> For the SGA Reverse Big Bang. Give anuminis appreciation for her wonderful art [here](http://anuminis.livejournal.com/86419.html)!
> 
> Beta'd by diva0789. Thanks darling.

**Serra Nova Dourada, Brazil**

The air was charged, sparking almost against his skin and against the meager scattering of trees. Halling remembered a time when the land he now stood on had been a jungle, the wildlife as abundant as it was farther north, in the Amazon. The loggers had left little behind of the beauty that once was.

The air sizzled and Halling frowned. His eyesight was sharp, left over from his days as a young hunter before he’d turned into the farmer he’d become out of necessity, and almost immediately he spotted the bright flash of disturbance near to the horizon.

Halling watched as the flash became a strobe and then calmed to a soft pinpoint. Under his gaze, the pinpoint grew, slowly at first and then quickly, all at once becoming a sort of portal just feet above the barren ground.

Out of the portal, a silver shape breached the light’s barrier and then came crashing, nose first to the ground. Fire-sparks flew wildly in the air as the large… vehicle skidded to a stop.

Halling’s mouth tightened. He continued to watch as the ugly ship rocked and then glowed with a light similar to that of the portal that had sputtered closed. The glow coming from the ship now dominated the area and then it morphed into half a dozen distinct shapes.

They looked human, from the distance, but as one turned towards him Halling noticed the long white hair and green-skinned face.

“Demons,” he whispered and then rushed back inside his house.

His son, Jinto, played on the dirty floor, two handmade dolls blabbering nonsense to each other. He looked up as Halling brushed past him, collecting several amulets and herbal potions he’d saved just for an occasion like this.

He would not leave his son unprotected.

“Dad?” Jinto asked, seeing the worry in his face.

“Jinto,” Halling took the chance that he still had a moment’s time, enough to kneel down in front of his son. “There are demons, just outside.”

Jinto’s face paled, having heard stories from him and his late wife. “Must we leave?”

“We can’t,” Halling told him. He swallowed harshly. “Jinto, you must promise me that no matter what happens you do not leave this house. I’m setting up a ward outside, they will not be able to enter, but it will not protect you if you go outside.”

“I understand,” Jinto said, his young eyes fearful. Halling nodded, kissing the boy on the forehead before he stood. “Wait, Dad!” Jinto called. “You can't go outside either!”

Halling smiled sadly at his son. “I must.”

He opened the front door and stepped into the sunlight. He didn’t see the demons, not yet, but then again they’d been around the back of his house.

The protection spell he knew worked as a source from the main door of entry, in this case the front door of their small hut of a house. He prayed he had enough time.

Halling hung the amulets on the door handle and coated them with the potion. He murmured ancient words that he’d been taught when he was a boy of Jinto’s age. He called upon the high spirits to watch over the house. He called upon his ancestors to keep his son safe. He called upon the earth to prevent any who wished harm to enter.

“What are you doing, human?” a low, raspy voice asked from his right.

Halling’s eyes snapped open as he turned to face the nightmarish creature. It’s eyes were yellow, like a predator as it stared at him with sharp teeth.

“Demons are not welcome here,” Halling told it.

The creature’s head tilted to the side in a questioning and curious gesture. “Demon? I am Wraith, no mere  _demon_.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead to drip down the side of Halling’s face. His eyes moved over the demon- the Wraith’s shoulder to where his son watched from the dusty window, terror stark on his boyish face.

The Wraith hissed, turning to see the boy as well. It struck at the window, only to be repelled back. Black smoke wisped up from where it had come in contact with the house’s ward.

“I see,” the Wraith said. It turned back to Halling. “You may prevent me from reaching your progeny, but you cannot stop me from having the boy watch you die.”

“I’m sorry,” Halling said to Jinto, knowing that this was his end. “I love you.”

Jinto pounded on the window, tears streaming down his face. “No!” his cry rang, muffled by glass and wooden walls. “Dad!”

The Wraith struck with talon-like claws into Halling’s chest, anchoring onto him. Halling’s back arched, pain like fire burning through him before it was replaced by a sort of strength.

For one brief moment, he felt as if he could break the Wraith’s yellow-eyed hold.

Then the weakness returned, his skin wrinkling against his bones, and Halling’s world disappeared into dust.

Inside the house, Jinto continued to scream, his tears running freely down his cheeks like rivers making canyons in the dust that had coated his face. The Wraith detached itself from the husk of the body that had been left of Jinto’s dad and turned to grin at him.

“You cannot stay in there forever, boy,” it said. “You will come out from your prison and when you do, I will be waiting.”

 

**Vancouver, Canada**

Rodney sat cross-legged on the grass. His hands rested comfortably on top his knees and his eyes were closed. The air blew softly at his short-cropped hair, brushing his cheeks like a caress.

His breathing evened out into one slow lungful with each steady rise of his chest. The world was  _alive_  around him, brimming with energy. He felt the swaying of the plants besides him and just to his right a large, old tree rose with ancient wisdom towards the cloudless sky.

There were seeds of life within the leaves of that tree. Rodney felt the forces working on them, the pull of their connection to the twigs against the force of gravity. It was a perfect balance. All of the sudden one seed’s restricting pull gave way and it fell, free to gravity’s clutches. The friction of the air pushed against it, but not enough to stop its sudden inertia downwards. The seed hit the ground and bounced up, falling back down again to roll to a stop in the clump of grass.

Rodney felt a smile come over his lips. His internal stresses had subsided, the empty hole in his chest fading away just slightly as he was reminded of the life all around him.

A large energy source came to his awareness just as Rodney was about to come back up from his half-meditative state. His smile dropped and he opened his eyes. The world was a bright splash of color, but he didn’t spend the time to appreciate it as he stood to face his unknown visitor.

Assistant Director Woolsey of the United States’ FBI stood with his arms hanging loosely at his side from the side of Rodney’s yard. “Dr. McKay.”

“Woolsey,” Rodney greeted back. “Are you guys even allowed to leave the country?”

“I’m FBI, not NSA,” Woolsey rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at corner of his lips.

“What’s the situation?” Rodney asked, gesturing for Woolsey to come inside with him. He packed up his bag with efficient movements, too used to suddenly having to be flown to a new location to consult the varying levels of stupid law enforcement. Despite Woolsey’s stringent need to follow the rules, he was one of Rodney’s favorites. But he would never tell the man that.

“I’ll explain on the plane,” Woolsey said. “But… it’s not something any of us have encountered before.”

Rodney frowned. “Any of your team?” he asked as he grabbed a couple pairs of ready-to-go suits.

“No,” Woolsey stated. “Any of the FBI. Or the CIA for that matter.”

Rodney froze. He stared down at his laptop, the mathematical proof he’d been working on just that morning staring back at him unfinished. He closed the machine and stuck it in its case. “And here I thought I might finally get some time to complete this proof,” he muttered.

Woolsey didn’t reply, instead leading Rodney towards the discrete black car, tinted windows blocking an outsider's view of their faces as they climbed in.

 

**District of Columbia, USA**

Rodney stared down at the body lying prone on the concrete floor. It wasn’t even the first time Rodney had done so, stared at a body on a hard, unforgiving floor. It wouldn’t be last either, but this was a little different.

In his career as a sort-of-consultant-detective, Rodney had seen many gruesome deaths. Once, he’d had to consult on a case involving a demon whose sole purpose seemed to be ripping off the appendages of small children. Rodney hadn’t slept for weeks after that one, not even with the knowledge that said demon was well and truly dead. 

And yeah, Rodney wasn’t just called in for demons. Sometimes the FBI or the CIA or Interpol were struck by some common human murderer, but Rodney had learned in his teens not to underestimate  _mundanes_.

Still, the shriveled mess in front of him was not made by any human. “You say this… man was a twenty-something college student?” Rodney repeated, turning from the wrinkled body to Woolsey.

Woolsey nodded, adjusting his glasses. Behind him, Caldwell of the CIA crossed his arms. Rodney raised an eyebrow at him, but resisted the urge to ask.

Rodney cleared his throat when it became apparent no one was going to say anything. “I’ve never seen demonic energy like this before,” he admitted. “Do we have any intel on the thing that made this?”

“None,” Woolsey said. “There have been no signs of suspicious activity, no sightings of demons in this city in the past week, even. At least, none that aren’t already registered with the government.”

“What we have been able to determine,” Caldwell said suddenly. “Is that this… thing seems to follow normal human air traffic patterns. If it does use alternative forms of transportation, they aren’t faster than a 747.”

“So you want me to track it?” Rodney asked. He breathed in deeply and let the energy of the crime scene sink into him. It was hard, the scene wasn’t very fresh and there were all sorts of emotions coming from both the men next to him and the other agents puttering around, snapping photos and bagging evidence.

Still, he could sense an undercurrent of something that felt almost  _hungry_  and it had him shivering slightly, pulling back on himself.

Woolsey was talking with an agent in hushed tones, but Caldwell watching him with interested eyes and Rodney glared. “Woolsey,” he said, calling the FBI director back.

“Right,” Woolsey nodded, waving the agent off. “Yes, we need you to follow its movements, see if you can get a read on the type of creature it is and who we can negotiate with to convince it to stop this, well these killings.”

“And how many have we uncovered thus far?” Rodney asked.

“Not many,” Woolsey admitted. “The files will be available to you as soon as you say you’re on the case.”

“And if we can’t get it to stop?” Rodney raised an eyebrow.

Caldwell huffed a harsh laugh. “Then we’ll dispose of the demon as quickly as possible.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Done.” He nodded to Woolsey. “I’ll do it.” It was an intriguing mystery if nothing else.

“You’ll need a partner,” Caldwell cut in before Woolsey could do anything more than let a look of relief pass over his face.

“I’m sorry,” Rodney glared. “Need I remind you that I am perfectly capable of defeating one demon by myself, Agent Caldwell?”

“You misunderstand me, Dr. McKay,” Caldwell began.

“No, you misunderstand,” Rodney interrupted him. “Your government recruited me when I was  _fourteen._  I’ve been working freelance for agencies all over the globe since I got my first PhD in Paranormal Containment. So do not tell me that I need some blind little junior agent bumbling his way through this investigation to help me.” He paused. “Besides, you’re CIA and last I checked demons inside the confinement of US borders were under FBI purview.”

Caldwell’s mouth had tightened grimly. “Sorry, Doc,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But this one hasn’t just struck the US. You get one of mine and you’ll work with him, or I’ll have the President himself order you.”

“You forget, I’m still a Canadian citizen,” Rodney told him.

“You have duel citizenship,” Caldwell shot back. “And the President wants this thing to disappear as quickly as possible.” He reached a hand out and a non-descript agent quickly put a file in it. He handed it over to Rodney, who took it reluctantly.

Rodney glanced at the name, no picture given, and then at the listed record. “Senior Agent John Sheppard?”

“I’m sure you’ll get along marvelously,” Woolsey stated, clasping his hands together.

Rodney stared, slightly horrified as Caldwell nodded.

<.<.o.>.>

“I just don’t like it, Jennifer,” Rodney said, switching the phone to his other ear. Files were laid out in front of him, images of old men and women who’d been, reportedly, far younger before they were killed at the hands of some demonic creature.

“Well if the President said…” Jennifer began on the other side of the line.

“Technically, Caldwell said.” Rodney shrugged. “I want you as my medical examiner.”

“Will the CIA accept me?” Jennifer asked. “I’ve only ever worked with the FBI.”

“They owe me one now,” Rodney stated. “Since I’ve agreed to this  _Sheppard_.”

“Stop making it sound like they’ve stuck you with a child.” He could just hear her roll her eyes at him. “Okay, Rodney, you get it approved and I’ll be your ME for this.”

“Great,” Rodney stated. There was no one he trusted more than Jennifer. And Carson, but Carson was… “How’s Scotland treating Carson?”

Jennifer sighed sadly. “His mother’s getting sicker each day. He’s worried _himself_  sick about it.”

Rodney nodded, though his friend wouldn’t be able to see. He’d never had a good relationship with his parents and Carson’s love for his mother wasn’t something he could sympathize well with.

Jennifer’s voice came back on. “Listen, Rodney, I’ve got a surgery to perform so I’m gonna have to let you go. Good luck with the case.”

“You’ll be on it soon enough,” Rodney told her.

“We’ll see.” Jennifer said dryly, as if she had no faith in his ability to berate people to his bidding. “Bye, Rodney.”

“Bye, Jennifer,” Rodney said. There was a beep signifying the end of the call and he pulled it away from his ear. He stared down at it for a moment, not for the first time wondering if they ever would have been a couple, had Rodney not been what he was.

But Rodney was a Guide. And Guides didn’t date mundanes; they dated Sentinels with the thought of bonding. So what if Rodney had never found a Sentinel that hadn’t bored him within minutes, he still wouldn’t subjugate anyone to a half-relationship, especially not a girl as smart and beautiful as Jennifer.

Such was the life he’d learned to deal with. Rodney sighed, rubbing at his chest as if it could somehow ease the gaping hole inside him, but like so many times before he knew it wouldn’t.

 

**Chicago, USA**

The smell was the first thing that hit Rodney as he entered the taped off crime scene. There was a rancid sort of odor in the air, like rotting flesh. It nearly had his lunch coming up as his eyes laid upon the family sprawled across the nearly abandoned back road.

“Get these gawkers out here,” Rodney barked at the cops milling outside the tape. He walked alone to the family, eyes tracing the man and woman who must have been the parents and then moving to the young children.

Their bodies hadn’t grown to adult sized as they’d aged; leaving the eight-year-old girl and six-year-old boy looking something like midgets in their shriveled deaths. It was sickening, if only for the fact that the energy around them felt  _wrong._

Rodney paused, uncertain suddenly as to his next step. He knew what he would do if he had a Sentinel, knew that he would instruct his bonded to smell the air. It was a proven fact that Sentinels could pick up emotions through scent and while Rodney could clearly feel the terror that still emitted from the dead family, he couldn’t feel what the attacker might have been feeling, his body now gone.

Guides drew their discoveries from the energy currently present, but Sentinels could pinpoint the tiny flecks of particles that still contained the demon’s scent. It was why, if Rodney were bonded, he would be in the background, his ability used as an aid to his Sentinel not the forefront investigator.

But he wasn’t bonded and Rodney was one of the best at what he did, so he pushed back his bitching mind and took more mental notes, committing to memory the scene so that he could bring it up later at any point and compare notes.

A larger energy source approached just at Rodney’s blind-spot and he turned to see a man ducking under the yellow tape, staring at the bodies with a hard sort of line at his mouth.

“This is an active crime scene,” Rodney stated, in case the man was daft. “You need to leave.”

The man turned his hazel eyes to Rodney and the Guide was struck by how attractive he was, from his mildly tanned skin to his slightly spiked brown hair. Still, he couldn’t let himself get distracted by a pretty face. He had a job to do.

“Dr. Rodney McKay, isn’t it?” the man said with a soft smile.

“Yes?” Rodney crossed his arms. He figured the man was a local detective, self-important in his own city as he stood legs wide facing the crime scene he thought should be his.

The man titled his head to the side and his smile widened. “My name’s John Sheppard. I believe we’re to be partners?”

Rodney blinked, his heart falling in his chest like a prophecy of something to come.

<.<.o.>.>

Rodney stalked up to Radek, annoyed as his new CIA tag-along followed just behind him. His friend, one of the most renowned Major Crime detectives in Chicago, looked up upon his approach.

“Rodney,” Radek greeted. He had large bags under his eyes, made even more visible by the slim glasses perched over his nose.

“Radek,” Rodney nodded. “You look like shit.”

“And you still do not mince your words,” Radek murmured. He glanced from Rodney to the agent behind him.

Rodney sighed. “Radek, John Sheppard of the CIA. Sheppard, Radek Zelenka. He’s a genius in the labs and I trust his opinion.” The words,  _like I don’t trust yours_ , settled between them, but John didn’t seem too perturbed.

Radek’s lips twitched, but his eyes were still tired and his shoulders slumped slightly. “You’re in need of information, yes?”

“Have you found anything, Detective?” John asked as Rodney was opening his mouth.

“Ah,” Radek pushed away the file topmost on his desk to scan the one below. “Yes, the family, they visited this restaurant.” He turned the paper around to show John, but Rodney was looking at the file that had been pushed away.

“Alicia Vega is missing?” Rodney asked.

“Who?” John frowned.

“The CEO of Vega Enterprises?” Rodney snorted at him. “You really don’t know?”

“Wait, the cell company?” John blinked.

“They make some of the most advanced cellphones yet,” Rodney told him. “They’re replacing the iPhone, even. Or they would, if people weren’t such Apple cultists.”

“You have a Macbook Pro,” John pointed out dryly. It was Rodney’s turn to blink, surprised by John's perceptiveness.

“Huh, true,” he said, then shook his head. “Radek?”

“There have been no sightings of her so far,” Radek murmured. “But that is a different case. You should go to the restaurant, question the manager.”

“Well….” Rodney wavered and then nodded. “Right, of course. But you should find Vega. She’s too important to go missing.”

“Why?” John asked as they turned and left the PD. “Surely she’d got someone that can step up if she’s, I don’t know, eloped or something.”

“Vega wouldn’t just  _elope_  from her life’s work,” Rodney scowled. “She’s one of the first women to make CEO in such a competitive industry.”

John shrugged. “Oh.”

The conversation dropped between them, stifled until the cab they’d hailed pulled up at the restaurant front and they got out.

They talk to the host, who quickly rushed to get the manager for them. The man rushed them into a side room, full of tables but no patrons. He was short and balding, the manager, with nervous hands that wrung at the edges of his suit jacket.

“What can I do for you, Agents?” he asked once introductions had been made.

“Where were you last Friday night?” Rodney asked quickly.

“Here, like I usually am,” the manager answered immediately. “I was walking the crowds most of the night.”

John nodded. “Good, then you should be able to tell us if you saw anything strange between the hours of six and seven-thirty.”

“Strange how, Agent?” he asked.

Rodney flashed the pictures of the family who’d been killed in the man’s direction. “Do you remember these people?”

The manager studied the pictures and nodded. “I… yes. I think I do.”

“Can you describe their behaviors while they were here?” John inquired.

“They ordered, they ate, one of the kids cried a bit because they wouldn’t get desert,” the man frowned. “They didn’t stand out.”

“But someone did,” Rodney latched on immediately. The nervous swell of the man’s energy rose. “Who?”

“No one,” the manager said.

“You’re lying,” John told him, his voice hard. “You will cooperate with us or-”

“You won’t like it,” Rodney cut the CIA agent off quickly. He wasn’t sure what the man was going to say, but something dangerous was coming off him and it made Rodney both annoyed, and a little interested.

“I,” the manager gulped. “There was a group of men, okay, they were a little strange. They were laughing over a Halloween mask… you know the ones meant to be demons but exaggerated. It was green with a big nose and the others were kind of hissing over it but,” the man shook. “Look, whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it!”

“What do you think happened?” Rodney pressed.

The manager scowled. “I don’t know, I don’t even really care, just leave me out of it.”

He was starting to get really agitated and Rodney had what he needed so he backed up a step. He turned to look at John, to tell him they should go, only to see John staring at the manager with his head tilted to the side as if he was listening to something.

“I believe you,” John said finally. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

The manager nodded and turned on his heels, high-tailing it out of their presence. Rodney hated men who were nervous in the presence of law enforcement on principle, but that wasn’t really what was on his mind.

No, what had him frowning was the way John kept his head titled, his eyes tracing the footsteps of the manager like a hunter.

Rodney licked his lips. “We should go,” he whispered in a voice so soft he could barely hear it himself.

John snapped to. “Right, sorry,” he shook his head. “Well, that was informative. Don’t think a group of men laughing over masks is really useful, is it?” he snorted and began walking back towards the door of the restaurant.

Rodney followed behind him, nodding nonchalantly, but internally his heart had sped up.

John looked at him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Rodney forced a smile on his face. “Just hungry.”

John sniffed the air. “Me too. I think there’s a Chinese place this way, you interested?”

“Yeah,” Rodney nodded. He closed his eyes forcefully and pushed his mild panic away.

John Sheppard may be a Sentinel, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

<.<.o.>.>

Rodney sank into himself, drawing the energy of the air around like a blanket to cocoon his own emotions. It was trick he’d learned soon after he’d come online, a poor substitute to the shielding of an actual Sentinel, but better than nothing.

Feeling more centered, he strengthened the shield, rendering it unreadable to most low-level empaths and Sentinels. Now that he knew what his temporary partner was, he didn’t want complications.

Rodney was a powerful Guide and as such very attractive to Sentinels, regardless of the Sentinel’s power. He figured John had to be pretty low to be able to travel for his job. The higher level the Sentinel, the most they were attached to a single territory and John, obviously, wasn’t.

Regardless, the power differences wouldn’t matter if the Sentinel found out that Rodney was a Guide. And he didn’t want to have to reject the moron; it would cause problems in their partnership and they had a demon to catch. He doubted that John knew already, it wasn’t in his file.

Still, there were problems with not showing John what he was. He wouldn’t be able to use his powers effectively without giving himself away and that was almost just as dangerous as having to reject the Sentinel.

Rodney frowned. Something felt off around him. Not off like the demon’s lingering death, but off as if there was deception in the air.

It didn’t feel angry, it was just present. Rodney brushed it away. There were quite a number of supernatural forces at work on the world that mundanes didn’t know about and he tried not to bother with them unless they were harming people.

A soft scratching sound made its way to Rodney’s ears and he opened his eyes, still entranced in his meditative state, to see his spirit guide scratching at the door. The artic fox’s brilliantly white fur sparkled as his blue eyes bore into Rodney.

Rodney stood, the energy he’d been feeling at fading into the background. The door opened and John stepped through, giving him a strange look, no doubt about the fact Rodney was standing in the center of the hotel floor, staring at him.

“We’ve got another hit,” John said. “Houston.”

“Right,” Rodney looked back to where his fox had been, but the spirit guide had vanished. “I’ll book us a jet.”

 

**Houston, USA**

The jet rolled slowly towards the gate. Rodney ignored the sights outside, lounging back in his couch of a seat. His suit jacket was unbuttoned at the front, his tie loose at his neck. In front of him, his laptop was open with the information Woolsey had sent on their new victims.

John shifted, scratching at his hair almost absentmindedly. Rodney had discovered that he was uncomfortable flying, often going to ask the pilot questions that Rodney couldn’t hear. It was strange, something Rodney wouldn’t have expected of a CIA agent, but then again he wouldn’t have expected a Sentinel to be an agent either so he supposed he should stop expecting John to behave in a normal way.

A part of Rodney wondered why the agent had been John for him from the start. Normally he thought of and referred to agents by their last name, Woolsey and Caldwell to name some. It kept things more professional and reminded Rodney that they were not people he wanted to become friends with.

Except, even at the beginning John hadn’t been Sheppard. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision to call him John, only that the few times John had spoken to him he’d said Rodney not McKay as well. It was a mystery, a mystery he thought that coincided with that strange feeling he kept almost sensing, the feeling he was missing something.

“Why were you put on this case?” Rodney asked, suddenly curious.

John looked at him, silent for so long that Rodney wondered if he’d crossed an unspoken line, and then he shrugged. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

“Hmm,” Rodney frowned. There was a stirring of intrigue inside him, the feeling he’d get right before a brilliant invention idea mixed with the curiosity of a good experiment.

There was something about John Sheppard that hadn’t been in his file and Rodney was going to figure it out.

<.<.o.>.>

“What do you have for us, Jennifer?” Rodney asked as they arrived at the tent that had been set up for the ME.

“The fire was accidental,” Jennifer said. “Or so they’re telling me.” She nodded over to where an entire section of the NASA-operated office building smoldered. “Thirteen bodies were recovered and while a couple of them were killed by the falling rubble or burns, these ones were not.”

“How can you tell?” John asked, glancing over the crisped bodies on the medical tables, some covered in white sheets but others, like the one Jennifer was currently standing over, were not.

“I examined the bodies of the other victims of this demon,” Jennifer told him. “And one thing I found is that their bones go through intense fracturing and rebuilding as they… age I suppose is one way to put it. At least five of the ones I’ve examined here have the same symptoms.”

“That’s why you’re one of the best,” Rodney declared happily.

Jennifer gave him a smile and a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

John glanced between them. “I’m going to check out the building a little closer.”

Rodney nodded and turned back to Jennifer, watching her as she watched him leave. “Damn, Rodney,” the doctor said. “Seems as though your partner’s working out better than you’d expected.”

Rodney bit his bottom lip. He was pretty sure John could still hear them, but… “He’s a Sentinel, Jennifer.”

“Oh,” Jennifer’s smirk fell. “I see.”

Rodney shrugged. “But he’s not totally incompetent so.”

“Sentinel’s rarely are,” Jennifer said. “Not that’d you know, considering you refuse to work with them.”

“You know why,” Rodney glared. “Never mind that. Tell me more about the victims.”

Jennifer sighed and nodded.

Later, Rodney caught John giving him a contemplative look, but it was gone before he could get worried that the Sentinel had found him out.

<.<.o.>.>

“ _The police have given no report on the cause of the fire_ ,” the reporter said and then looked over to the right. After a moment, she stared back in the camera. “ _The death count has gone up to fifteen with two more men having passed away while in emergency surgery. More updates to come, stay tuned_.”

“We need to keep this demon out of the press,” John said, clicking off the TV. “It won’t help anything to panic people, not when we’re pretty sure the thing looks human.”

“Agreed,” Rodney nodded. He checked his email and frowned as he saw a new message from Woolsey. “Listen to this, Director Woolsey just got notice that a female had gone missing from the college dorm our DC victim was from.”

“Missing when?” John asked.

“As in, she was last spotted the morning the boy died,” Rodney looked up at John. “There’s something there.”

“What, though?” John frowned. “Is she the demon? Or was she also killed by the demon? You’ve got info on her?”

“Yep,” Rodney scrolled through the attached file. “Sophomore, good grades, honor college student. History major. She is on the student council and told everyone in the government body she was going home for the weekend, which is why no one reported her missing until the next Monday.”

John hummed, his eyes lost in thought. Rodney watched him for a moment, wondering if he was about to zone, but so far John had never even looked close to it.

More and more, Rodney was tempted to just bring it all out in the open, to tell John he was Guide and see what his reaction was. It didn’t seem like there was a much of a point in keeping it hidden much longer, he’d learned to value John’s judgment and they worked well together, pointing things out the other had missed.

They were nowhere near an answer to the case yet, but the data they were collecting was growing in size and Rodney was sure they’d get a breakthrough soon. It seemed almost silly, childish even, to keep up this charade of being mundane, but John hadn’t brought up his Sentinel abilities yet either and Rodney didn’t really want to be the first to break the silence on that.

Not that John was trying to hide his abilities. Or, if he was, he was being pretty damn incompetent about it. Still, when Rodney opened his mouth to bring it up he inevitably found himself asking something completely unrelated.

It was a little aggravating.

 

**San Francisco, USA**

“You seem tense,” Rodney stated, his shoes clacking steadily on the hard floor of the sidewalk outside the airport.

John looked over at him, just a hint of surprise on his face. After a moment of staring, the man nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I live here, technically.”

“Technically?” Rodney raised an eyebrow.

John shook his head, but didn’t answer as their ride to their hotel approached them. Rodney thought to ask why they didn’t just stay at John’s house or apartment, if he lived here, but something had him keeping his mouth closed.

They arrived at the hotel and found Woolsey in the lobby waiting for them. “Gentlemen,” the man greeted.

“Director Woolsey,” John greeted back.

“What do you have for us?” Rodney asked as the assistant director went with them up the elevator into their room.

“An actor was killed,” Woolsey stated, his gaze sweeping the room. “And his twin sister is missing.”

“Wait, the Cadman twins?” John asked.

“Yes,” Woolsey nodded. He handed Rodney, who was closest, a file.

Rodney opened it up and saw pictures of the twins together. He recognized them, but he couldn’t place where. He’d never been one for remembering the names of actors, so he brushed it aside and instead focused on the picture of the male twin’s dead body. “Are we assuming the demon killed her as well?”

“We don’t know,” Woolsey frowned. “It could be a coincidence, but…”

“We shouldn’t assume anything a coincidence,” John stated. He sighed. “Where was his body found?”

“On the side of the road, along with the car they’d rented from the airport,” Woolsey told him. “It’s in the file.”

John nodded and held out a hand. Rodney read over the information one more time and then gave it to him. He glanced at Woolsey, to find him frowning at the room.

“What?” Rodney asked.

“I’m sure we have enough in our budget to get you both separate rooms,” Woolsey murmured, nodding to the two double beds.

John snorted. “Since when has the FBI or the CIA spent their budget on making their agents more comfortable?”

Rodney spoke up before Woolsey could retort. “It’s fine. Easier this way, we can go over our notes together. It’s not like we’ve been staying in one place for very long anyway.”

“I suppose,” Woolsey said. “I am surprised you are okay with it, Dr. McKay. I remember Baghdad.”

“In Baghdad you wanted me to share a bed with a reporter,” Rodney said. “Completely different situation and wholly inappropriate.”

Woolsey’s lips twitched. “Of course. I’ll head back to my own hotel then. I’m on call if you need me.”

“Understood,” John nodded, eyes back on the file.

Rodney waved the FBI director away and began unpacking his laptop, ready to add the information to his growing collection of data on this case.

<.<.o.>.>

The crime scene had produced very little evidence for either John or Rodney and so Rodney had suggested they go to the hotel room the twins would have shared had they made it there from the airport.

The door to the room was closed and Rodney raised his hand to swipe the card the front desk had given them, only for John to put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Rodney turned to him and opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, only to have John shake his head and put a finger to his lips. Rodney snapped his mouth closed and nodded, stepping back a bit from the door.

John led them back towards the elevator, presumably far enough that anyone inside wouldn’t be able to hear them. “I heard talking,” he said. “Hold on, let me listen.”

Rodney waited as John tilted his head to the side, his eyes going a bit blank. “They’re talking about the girl,” he said. “Laura Cadman.”

“Who?” Rodney asked.

“Two males,” John said. “They haven’t mentioned their own names.”

Rodney frowned and then an idea formed. “Can you piggyback your sight on your hearing?”

John turned to him. “I might zone.”

Rodney pushed aside the fact that they’d basically just admitted to each other that John was a Sentinel and instead put his hand on John’s arm. “I got you.” He took a deep breath and felt for the energy always around him, tethering John with it. “Listen to them, pinpoint their voices.”

John did with no comment, nodding slightly.

“Now let your sight fade away from where we are here. Let it travel along the line of their voices, see them where they are,” Rodney instructed in a calm voice, the voice he’d been trained to use since he’d come online as a Guide.

The feelings of the energy around him wavered, as if struck by a strong force. Rodney frowned, watching at the bright lines that appeared around John’s body. His Guide-sight had come on the minute he’d placed his hand on the Sentinel’s arm, but he hadn’t expected the energy to be this strong…

John shifted, moving away. His eyes had refocused back on Rodney. “It was her agent,” he said. “I recognize him from the picture. He wants to publicize her brother’s dead in the news so that when she is returned her popularity will increase.”

“Hollywood miscreants,” Rodney muttered. “I’ll call Woolsey, he can take care of that.”

“Not our problem,” John agreed. His hazel eyes bore into Rodney for a moment, as if there was something else to be said.

Rodney felt his heartbeat speed up and he turned to the elevator, pressing the button to go down. “We should go over the similarities between Laura Cadman and the girl who went missing from the dorm.”

“Right,” John murmured, letting the topic of Sentinels and Guides slide away.

Rodney’s shoulders relaxed and he breathed out a soft sigh of relief, ignoring the way John’s eyes sharpened on him.

<.<.o.>.>

John was just a step ahead of Rodney as they walked back to their hotel room to gather their stuff. They’d gotten another hit, this one in Hawaii, and their plane was set to depart as soon as they were on it.

John stopped suddenly, making Rodney step to the side slightly so as not to collide into his back. He peered around the Sentinel to look at whatever it was that had frozen him.

A woman with red-brown hair stood by their hotel door, her hands clasped behind her back. She wore a simple black suit, but on her breast pocket was the insignia for the SGC, the Sentinel-Guide Center.

“Elizabeth,” John greeted after a moment’s more silence.

“John,” the woman nodded. She turned her eyes to Rodney. “Hello, I’m Dr. Elizabeth Weir, correspondent for the San Francisco branch of the SGC. I hope you don’t mind if I take John with me for a moment.”

John was tense beside him and so Rodney scowled. “I do mind. Agent Sheppard and I are in the middle of a very important case for the CIA. Anything you need to discuss with him can be handled  _after_  we’ve solved it.”

Weir frowned. “I’m sorry, Agent, but this is SGC business. I don’t know if you have been informed, but John is a Sentinel and as such should not be allowed to continue to work on cases that bring him outside his territory.”

John had gone from tense to stiff. “If you’re going to insult my performance on my job, Dr. Weir, I suggest you take it up with my supervisor, not with my partner.”

“Besides that,” Rodney stated. “You are a mundane, don’t even try to deny it. How could you possibly know what Sentinel John needs?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Weir asked.

“Alpha Guide Rodney McKay,” Rodney rolled his eyes. “PhD, PhD.”

Weir’s eyes widened and she cleared her throat. “I apologize,” she said, dropping Rodney’s gaze. “I hadn’t realized that Alpha Sheppard had bonded.”

Rodney frowned and opened his mouth to tell her that he and John weren’t, in fact, bonded, only to have John stop him with a soft touch to the back of the neck. “It’s very new,” he said with a fake smile.

Weir didn’t seem to notice. “If you’ll both come with me, then, I can get you registered right away. Of course, you’ll have to choose if you want to keep San Francisco as your territory, or Guide McKay’s home, but I’m sure you’ve already talked about this.”

“We would prefer more time to settle into our bond before registering,” John told her. “Having the SGC study our bond right now would make me… uncomfortable.”

“Of course,” Weir nodded. “I understand. Will you be in the city long?”

“We have to leave,” John shook his head. “But when we return, we’ll be sure to drop by the center.”

“See that you do,” Elizabeth nodded. “And congratulations.”

She left quickly, as if she felt threatened. Then again, she had insulted Rodney and if he and John were actually newly bonded then John would be within his rights to see compensation for her behavior.

As soon as she’d left down the elevator, Rodney turned to John. “Alpha?”

“Guide?” John countered with a raised eyebrow.

Rodney snorted. “As if you didn’t already know that.”

John smirked. “Yeah,” he nodded. “You never brought it up, though, so I figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t,” Rodney admitted. “But regardless,” he waved a hand in the air. “You’re really an alpha level?”

“As are you,” John stated, shrugging. He turned to their room door and slid the card through.

Rodney frowned. He hadn’t meant it like it had sounded, but it didn’t really matter since John was already inside gathering his stuff. Still, at least that mystery was solved. John had been hiding his power level, which, to be frank, was impressive.

Well, obviously the SGC knew he was an Alpha-level Sentinel, but alpha’s often gave off an intimidating air and that wasn’t something they needed on this case, not yet. So it made sense to keep the power level low. Still, Rodney was impressed.

“What was that about, then?” Rodney asked as he packed up his own gear.

John’s shoulders sloped downward. “Sorry for the implication,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s fine,” Rodney said. “But what did Weir want from you?”

He was perhaps a little more curious than was necessary, but who could blame him. John was a pretty mystery.

John glanced at him, then away. “The SGC’s always on my case because I travel a lot.” His mouth closed as soon as he’d finished the sentence, a hard line on his face that suggested he was done with the topic.

Rodney nodded. That was another question, one he wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure now was the best time. If John was an alpha then he shouldn’t be very comfortable traveling like they’d been doing.

It was something for Rodney to ponder.

 

**Hong Kong, China**

“This is a nightmare,” Rodney muttered as they pushed past a gaggle of reporters shoving cameras in their faces. They spoke in rapid Chinese, as if either Rodney or John would be able to understand them.

“You said it,” John nodded. He had a hand on Rodney’s back, guiding him the through the mess as if it were his  _job_  and though Rodney felt he should be offended at the implication that he couldn’t deal with a bunch of foreign busybodies, it still had his heartbeat speeding up.

The finally reached the interior of the US embassy, where a Chinese pair stood blocking the crowd from entering. Rodney felt immediately their bonded status and he nodded first to the Guide, and then the Sentinel.

“Agents,” a female voice said before they could enter the embassy building.

John and Rodney both turned to look at the blond reporter. She seemed to take just their attention as permission to continue.

“I’m Sally Vickers with BBC World News,” she said. “The world is wondering if this attack on the US embassy is a sign of hostile force from China. Should we be worried about follow up violence?”

Rodney froze. That was… not good. Not good at all.

John kept a hand on the small of his back, comforting him as he growled lowly. “Ms. Vickers, this event was not orchestrated by the Chinese government or, likely, any Chinese citizens. The unfortunate death of the diplomats in this embassy was caused by the direct actions of a demon that has been plaguing this world.”

“A demon?” Vickers asked. “Are you saying there have been other victims of this demon?”

“There has,” John said. “But rest assured, Guide McKay and I are working as hard as we are able to find this monster and put a stop to its attacks.”

Rodney nodded smartly, following John and he turned on his heels and entered the building. The Chinese bonded pair followed behind, closing the door to block out the buzz of the crowd.

“Your country will believe you bonded,” the Chinese Guide said in a highly accented voice as John and Rodney surveyed the destruction inside.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney saw John wince and nod.

“You are not,” the Guide continued. “But your energies are very compatible. They merge at the edges.”

“We’ve been working on this case together for several weeks,” Rodney told him.

The other Guide nodded, understanding what Rodney was saying. John cleared his throat, waving a hand to the scene. “Can you tell us what your Sentinel has already found from this?”

The Guide glanced towards his bonded. “There is a smell that persists. It is not one he has encountered before. I feel a demonic energy, the death was not natural, of course, but neither was it  _correct_.”

Rodney frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone has their time,” the Chinese man stated. “These persons, this was not their right time.”

John frowned. “How?”

The Guide shook his head. “We do not know. Only, if this creature is from this plane, this reality, then the world would know the time it would kill.”

“So it’s from a different dimension,” Rodney said. He clicked his fingers. “Yes, of course. That’s what that feeling was.”

The Guide nodded, pleased that Rodney got it. Rodney turned to John. “This is a bit more complicated than we’d thought, then.”

“Apparently,” John remarked dryly, turning hard eyes back to the dozens of bodies scattered across the tiled floor.

<.<.o.>.>

“Eight dead and another missing,” Rodney stated.

“Anne Teldy, female diplomat for the UN,” John said, typing up the report on his laptop. “This is a political mess.”

“Well, apparently what you said helped smooth things over,” Rodney remarked dryly. In front of him he scratched at a spiral notebook, tackling the math proof he’d been working on before this whole business had begun.

Though he’d never had time to go get his doctorate in mathematics like he’d wanted to, Rodney still had a Masters and while physics was his main passion, he liked to work proofs as a stress relief. He definitely needed that now.

There was the rustle of John moving and then Rodney felt him peering over his shoulder. “You made a mistake.”

“What?” Rodney looked up.

“There,” John pointed to the third line. “That integral.”

Rodney looked at the numbers in question and cursed under his breath. He quickly scratched them out and then set his pen down, too tired to try to fix it. “You’re records didn’t list any college degrees.”

“My CIA records don’t have a lot of intel on me,” John shrugged. “I was going for my doctorate in Applied Mathematics when the CIA recruited me.”

“Huh,” Rodney looked at John anew. “Really?”

John smiled and sat down on the chair besides Rodney. “Yep. And you have two PhDs.”

“Paranormal Containment and Physics,” Rodney said. “I also have three Masters.”

“Sentinel and Guides Studies, Electrical Engineering, and Mathematics,” John nodded. “That was in  _your_  file.”

“Apparently,” Rodney shrugged. He looked back at the proof and then closed the notebook entirely.

John let out a quick breath. “I wanted to say sorry. You know, for what I said to the reporter. I shouldn’t have led them to the assumption… you’re not mine and… well…”

Rodney cleared his throat. “Normally, I’d be pissed, but I understand the circumstances.” He sighed. “It’s not like I have another Sentinel waiting for me at home.”

“I don’t know why not,” John told him.

Rodney looked over, his eyes meeting honest hazel. “What?”

“You’re brilliant,” John told him. “You attract me more than any other Guide ever has. You… you’re a genius and you spend your time helping the world instead of doing the things that would win you a Nobel Prize. I don’t understand how any Sentinel could have told you no.”

Rodney blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “No one has,” he admitted. “I’ve always been the one to refuse.”

“Oh,” John pulled back, his face flushing slightly. “Well, that makes sense…”

Rodney placed a hesitant hand on John’s own. “That was a hell of a lot for you to keep inside. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t proposition me earlier.”

It was John’s turn to laugh. “I didn’t want anything to affect the case. But the Guide today, he gave me hope that you might-”

“John,” Rodney said, to try out the name outside of just his mind. It clicked on his tongue and he smiled. “Over the past couple of weeks I went from trying to hide my abilities from you to wishing you would want to have me. I– I made assumptions about you that I have since learned are so far from the truth that I admit I’m a little ashamed.”

John opened his mouth, but Rodney put up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “You’re so attractive that I was immediately interested, but I didn’t want to bind myself to pretty face and at first that’s what I thought you were. Just a pretty face, but I was wrong. No Sentinel has ever pulled to me the way you do and I think, if you agree, that we would be stupid not to listen to our instincts on this.” John’s hand flipped over so that he could grip Rodney’s and Rodney blushed slightly. “I’m a genius, but I’m not perfect. I’m arrogant, I know that about myself, and I can sometimes let my brain stop me from being a good Guide. I don’t really  _care_  about people like I should, but I do know that I want you.”

“Oh, Rodney,” John’s lips twitched into a smile. “You’re perfect to me, you know. I’ve seen you reduce suspects to tears, but I’ve also seen your conviction to catch this demon. And it just makes me want you more.”

Rodney leaned closer, breathing in as John met him halfway and gave him a gentle kiss. He shifted, pulling himself closer to the Sentinel.

The ring of Rodney’s phone cut through the sudden silence. They both jerked back and Rodney cursed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Yes?” he snapped unhappily.

“We’ve got a body in Dubai,” Woolsey said immediately.

Rodney glanced at John, knowing the Sentinel could hear the FBI director as well. “We’re on our way.”

 

**Dubai, United Arab Emirates**

A single security guard lay dead near one of the terminal gates. Rodney sighed, pulling John away.

“At least the demon’s manner of killing is so distinctive,” he said after a moment.

“One favor,” John nodded. “The MO has changed though. Only one dead and no one is missing, at least no one has been reported missing.”

“It probably had to catch a flight,” Rodney joked and then snapped his fingers. “Actually, yes, that’s it. We believe it’s taking planes to hotspot destinations, large cities, and if one was about to leave, it probably didn’t have time for anything else.”

“Why kill anyone at all, then?” John asked.

“What if it had to,” Rodney offered. “What if it needs to drain the life of a person to-”

“Feed,” John said. “Its food source is human life.”

“Like a vampire, but way creepier,” Rodney frowned.

John scratched the back of his head. “Great.”

<.<.o.>.>

Their hotel room had only a single bed. Rodney had to wonder if the staff had made a mistake, or if the agents that had booked it for them had heard the news report and figured they didn’t need two beds.

John coughed slightly and Rodney turned towards him. The Sentinel placed a soft hand to his arm, lightly leading them both to sit on the bed. Rodney wondered briefly if they were going too fast, but he reminded himself that so many Sentinel-Guide pairs bonded within moments of meeting.

He knew that he wanted John and that John wanted him. That should be enough.

“Tell me about your childhood,” John said. His hand rested on Rodney’s knee and Rodney found himself leaning slightly to the left so that their shoulders brushed.

“My parents fought constantly,” Rodney told him softly. “I have a sister, she’s a couple years younger, and my parents would pit us against each other. My mother often used Jeannie, that’s my sister, as her pawn in the power struggles.” He let out a harsh breath.

John rubbed Rodney’s knee. “Where are your parents now?”

“Dead,” Rodney said. “They died in a car crash when I was sixteen.”

Rodney liked how John didn’t say he was sorry for his loss. Instead, he asked, “and your sister?”

“She’s married with a kid,” Rodney closed his eyes. “I haven’t talked to her in years. I was so mad at her for giving up her career when she got pregnant.”

“Hey,” John said, causing Rodney to look up at him.

As soon as he did, John leaned forward and gave him a kiss. “You’ve still got time,” he said.

“Yeah,” Rodney licked his lips. “What about you? Your family?”

John pulled back slightly, suddenly seeming embarrassed. “My father disowned me when I joined the Air Force.”

“You were a flyboy?” Rodney blinked. “Huh, I think I should have guessed that.”

John laughed. “Yeah, I flew helicopters in Afghanistan.” He sobered. “I disobeyed a direct order when some of my men went down and when I came back I was discharged.”

Rodney frowned. “Dishonorable discharge?”

“It would have been,” John admitted. “Except that’s when I came online. They couldn’t dishonorably discharge a feral Sentinel so they just let me go saying I was too unstable without a bond.”

“And your father?” Rodney prodded.

John shrugged. “He didn’t care. He’s got his company to run and his one good son to raise in his footsteps.”

“So you have a brother,” Rodney hummed. “Wait, company?”

“Sheppard Industries,” John said.

“Your father is Patrick Sheppard?” Rodney gaped. “I’m sorry, and you  _didn’t_ know who Alicia Vega was?”

John laughed. “I never had a mind for business,” he said.

“Apparently,” Rodney muttered. “I came online when my parents died. The Boston branch of the SGC took me in and allowed me to take classes at MIT until I convinced them to just let me enroll in the school full time.”

“So long,” John murmured.

Rodney nodded, throat suddenly tight. He knew what John had done, bringing up a conversation about their pasts, and he silently thanked him for it. “Well, I have you now,” he said softly.

John gave him a brilliant smile. “You do, Rodney. I’m here for you.”

Rodney shifted forward, pressing his mouth to John’s. John pressed back, hard enough to have Rodney tilting his neck backwards under the weight of it. The Sentinel prodded him to lie back on the bed and moved to undress him.

“I can do that,” Rodney said.

John shook his head, unlacing Rodney’s shoes and tugging off his socks before moving up to his suit jacket. “Let me, please.”

Rodney lay back, allowing it as John carefully stripped him of clothes, brushing fingers and lips along each inch of pale skin revealed.

By the time he was naked, Rodney was arching into each touch, shivering with the need to have John.

John’s body stretched over him, naked as well. His skin practically glowed in the hotel lamp light and Rodney hummed his appreciation into a kiss.

John’s laugh was muffled by Rodney’s skin as his hands wandered. Rodney closed his eyes, feeling for the energy all around him. John’s mind was already reaching for him and Rodney opened up under his Sentinel’s needy touch.

The world flashed white and black around them like the title sequence to a new beginning. Rodney felt himself being stretched open and he relaxed into it, knowing that it was right in this moment.

“Guide,” John gasped as if it was the first word he’d ever spoken.

“Sentinel,” Rodney replied, his mind open to this beautiful man moving above him. He drew the Sentinel in and in return let himself be pulled into the Sentinel.

There was a tugging in his chest and Rodney followed it, feeling the world collapsing on him and John like a tidal surge, like a blanket of hope and security.

John thrust up into him, hitting a spot that had Rodney moaning. Rodney’s arms were moving, pulling him closer so that their chests moved together. “John,” he said.

John’s lips met his and then broke away as he gasped for breath, coming in hot pulses. Rodney felt the link between them solidify until it was almost tangible and then he  _was_ John, and  _he_  was coming.

They collapsed, one soul separated into two bodies for just a brief moment before the bond snapped again and then they were two again, Sentinel and Guide, forever bonded.

<.<.o.>.>

Rodney sat up on the bed. John was still asleep besides him, his mouth hung open in a manner that should be unattractive, but remarkably wasn’t.

He felt light, as if he could fly without wings. Rodney wasn’t much for fantastical thoughts, but that gaping hole in his chest that had grown steadily ever since he’d come online had been filled and he was suddenly  _free_.

A soft padding of small footsteps announced his artic fox. The blue-eyed spirit animal jumped lightly onto the bed, giving a sort of animal smile to John’s still sleeping form, before turning to Rodney.

Rodney smiled at the guide, pushing back the urge to speak. He knew if he said anything John would awaken and he figured the Sentinel could use a little more sleep. They’d been run ragged with all the traveling for this case and while Rodney often slept on the plane, John rarely did.

The fox’s head inclined as if he agreed. He sat back on his haunches, his eyes bright with the joy Rodney was feeling.

Rodney hadn’t even realized how much he’d needed John until they’d bonded, but now the thought of no longer having him was like a barbed knife stabbing into his chest. His eyes traced the Sentinel’s too-perfect face and his fingers itched to touch him.

Why not? Rodney asked himself, shifting back to lie down next to his bonded. He curled fingers around John’s arm and blinked as John shifted, his arms moving around Rodney and pulling him closer.

Rodney tucked his head into John’s chest and closed his eyes. This, here in the arms of his Sentinel, was the most perfect feeling in the world. This was what he’d been missing his entire life without realizing.

Soft fur brushed against his cheek briefly and Rodney opened his eyes just in time to see his spirit guide flash away in a soft burst of light. Then John’s arms were tightening around him, pulling him closer, and Rodney let all wandering thoughts wash away.

 

**London, England**

“Another security guard,” Rodney murmured. “John?”

“It was rushed,” John stated, also staring down at the wrinkled body of the once middle-aged airport cop. “The demon is rushing, I believe. It no longer has time to leave the airport before moving on.”

“What is it looking for?” Rodney wondered.

Jennifer knelt next to the dead man, working mechanically to clock the time of death. Rodney glanced at her, and then turned his eyes to his Sentinel. John was raising an eyebrow at him, a question.

Rodney shrugged. He could explain his friendship with Jennifer later, at the moment there was more important things to worry about. He placed a hand on John’s arm, feeling his muscles contract beneath the suit material. “Scent the air, see if you can detect that death smell.”

“Death smell?” John murmured. Rodney shook his head, they both knew that he meant the reek the demon seemed to give off, sometimes even Rodney could catch a whiff of it.

The Sentinel leaned a bit into Rodney’s hand and raised his face to the air. Rodney felt onlookers’ curiosity, but he ignored them. “I smell it,” John said suddenly. “Approaching.”

Rodney reached for his gun, but John had already retrieved his own and had it pointing in the direction of an approaching agent, leading a haggard female with a slightly ripped flight attendant outfit.

John lowered his gun, scenting the air again. Rodney transferred his arm to the bare skin of John’s neck. “What is it?”

“It’s not her,” John said. “But she has the smell around her.”

“Sirs,” the agent, pale-faced and obviously green at the job, nodded to them. “This woman says she was held prisoner by the-”

“Thank you, Agent,” Rodney interrupted him, giving a significant look towards the crowd.

“Why don’t you shoo away the bystanders?” John told him in a much softer voice. “We’ll take it from here.”

The agent nodded, letting go of the woman’s arm abruptly.

“Miss, I’m Sentinel John Sheppard,” John said.

For a moment, Rodney wondered why he chose to introduce himself as Sentinel over CIA agent, and then he realized that the flight attendant was shivering, the terror coming off her in waves. Usually, such strong emotions would be the first thing he’d notice about a person, but he’d bonded and his senses were muted unless  _he_  chose to bring them up.

At the announcement that John was a Sentinel, the female calmed slightly, smiling shakily. “Sentinel,” she said in a small voice. Her name tag read Dusty Mehra.

John nodded. “And this is my Guide, Dr. Rodney McKay. We’re here to help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I was at the gate for my next flight,” Dusty told them. “I was early so there wasn’t anyone there yet. I’d opened the gate door to make sure my card would work because it had malfunctioned at my last gate.” She took a deep breath. “I saw… a shadow, I think, in the corner of the terminal.”

“A shadow?” Rodney frowned. “Or a shade?”

“More like a phantom,” Dusty told him. “I stepped towards it. I was curious and then,” she paused. “The gate door closed behind me.”

“It’s okay,” John said immediately as Rodney felt the spike in her terror at the memory of being trapped. “No one can hurt you here.”

Dusty nodded once. “The phantom disappeared, but then I heard footsteps and a man walked around the corner from where the gate opening was. I asked him what he was doing, told him it was a restricted area and he just… smiled.”

“What did this man look like?” Rodney asked.

She shrugged. “Tall, with a hat. A ball-cap. Um, he had a long sleeve shirt and jeans.” Dusty stopped suddenly, looking up at them both. “His face was strange. From a distance it looked normal, but… around the eyes and the mouth, it just didn’t seem right, you know?”

“What happened next?” John asked.

“The man came up to me with his hand out, like this,” she demonstrated, reaching her right hand towards them with the palm facing out. “I looked at it and it was… there was a hole in his hand. Like a mouth.”

Rodney and John exchanged a glance. Rodney thought of the ‘feeding’ marks the demon left, five claw indents and then the central bloody hole where the feeding was centered. “What did you do?”

“I ran,” Dusty said. “Past him. He grabbed my arm, but I slipped out of my suit jacket and got past to where the gate opened to the tarmac. I felt him behind me, he thought I was trapped, I think, so I jumped.”

“That’s a pretty far jump,” Rodney said.

Dusty nodded. “But there was a luggage truck, empty, and I landed on that.”

“You’re very lucky,” John told her. “Can you tell us when this happened?”

“It was eleven ten when I made it to the gate,” Dusty frowned. “I didn’t check the time again until after, at eleven thirty, but, I think I was only at the gate for five minutes or so.”

“Thank you for your help,” Rodney told her. “We’re going to have to ask that you give your statement to another agent.”

Dusty nodded, already her panic receding. Rodney had no doubt that her experience had been scary, but the fact that she hadn’t actually been hurt went a long way towards her not going into shock.

Jennifer came up to them just as another agent was leading Dusty away. “She okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Rodney said. “You have a time of death?”

Jennifer sighed. “Just around eleven fifteen,” she said. She waved a hand in the air, as if to say that this whole thing was becoming too much for her. “I hope you catch this bugger soon.”

“Us too,” John told her.

Jennifer smiled suddenly, glancing between the two of them. “And congratulations on your bonding. I was going to tell you earlier, but I got distracted.”

“Thank you,” Rodney said, leaning into John’s chest slightly.

Jennifer nodded and walked back towards where the body was being carted off. Rodney turned to John. “Both happening at eleven fifteen?”

“Dusty wasn’t lying,” John told Rodney.

“Jennifer’s one of the best, she wouldn’t be wrong,” Rodney countered.

“So what, then?” John asked. “We have a demon who can be in more than one place at the same time?”

“Or we have more than one demon,” Rodney said somberly.

<.<.o.>.>

“Does this have citrus in it?” Rodney asked. The waitress shook her head, but Rodney didn’t really trust her considering she’d been giving John gooey eyes all through ordering and delivering their food.

John sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any.”

Rodney relaxed. At the very least, he trusted his Sentinel. “I should probably get you an epipen to carry, right?”

“That’d be a good idea,” John said. “Where is your main one?”

“My briefcase,” Rodney nodded to where the non-descript black bag sat by his feet. “I rarely go anywhere without it.”

“Got it,” John said.

Rodney flashed him a quick smile and took a bite of the lamb, humming his appreciation of its taste.

“So, let’s go through the case,” John said after a few bites of his own. “The demon or demons, their MO is feeding via draining the life of their victims.”

“And they’ve taken several females,” Rodney pointed out. “To an unknown location.”

“Possibly to be fed on later,” John grimaced. “Or for a different purpose, we don’t know.”

“We don’t know a lot of things,” Rodney muttered, just a bit frustrated.

John sighed. “Okay, but why have these demons taken some females and fed on others.”

Rodney chewed for a moment, contemplating that. “All the females who’ve been taken,” he said slowly. “Have been leaders. The college student was on the student council, for example.”

“Right,” John nodded.

“Wait!” Rodney sat up straight. “Alicia Vega, she went missing.”

John stared at him, wide eyed. “We didn’t even think that she might have been taken.” He paused. “But that would have put the demon on the opposite side of Chicago as from the family that had been killed. Which gives proof to our theory of there being more than one.”

“You remember at the restaurant,” Rodney said. “The manager talked about a group of men laughing over a mask. Strange men.”

“That’s…” John frowned. “We can’t know that for certain.”

Rodney’s shoulders slumped. “True.”

“Maybe,” John said slowly. “There’s more than one creature because while some continue to look for more women, or whatever else it is they might be seeking, another can take the females they’d already captured back to their base.”

“Which would explain why no one has spotted men dragging captured women around in the airports,” Rodney remarked dryly. He tapped his fingers on the table and glared at the waitress as she came back to deliver the check.

 

**Quebec City, Canada**

“How many?” Rodney asked. “How many have died?”

“You know the answer to that,” John said. “Just as much as I do.”

He felt useless, staring at the pictures of the bodies they would have to then go see for real. He’d never had a case drag on for so long at the rate this one was.

“Rodney,” John murmured. “You’re leaking anxiety.”

Rodney set his bag roughly down and threw his suit jacket off. “Excuse me for caring.”

“I know you care,” John said.

Rodney scowled, his mind flashing back to the conversation he’d had not half an hour before on the phone with Caldwell. The senior agent had accused him of ineptitude born of indifference.

“That bastard,” Rodney growled.

John’s growl echoed his. “If he was anywhere near me when he’d said that, he would not be standing right now, you know that.”

Rodney shook his head, unwilling to be comforted yet. “You don’t understand. I’ve been facing demons since the sixth grade, okay? I… I’ve never failed.” He scrubbed his face. “I’ve never failed so many people.”

“Rodney,” John said and it was the sharpness in his voice combined with the tug of their bond that had Rodney turned to face the Sentinel. John’s hazel eyes were hard, flashing with reflected pain. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand. I mourn for the death of every single man, woman, and child who we’ve lost on this case.”

Rodney’s shoulders collapsed down and he nodded weakly. “I know. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.” He barked a bitter laugh. “I told you I wouldn’t be good at this.”

John’s face softened slightly. “It’s okay. You were lashing out and I was a convenient target.” He moved closer and tugged Rodney in and Rodney went. “We will find these demons and we will make them pay for the pain they have caused this planet.”

Rodney nodded, his throat tight. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, letting himself sink into the bond between them. It was a comfort for the both of them and he felt John relax too.

“I didn’t even know I was missing you until you were here,” Rodney confessed into the silence. “I’ve lived with this hole inside me for so long that I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.”

“You’re not alone,” John murmured. “Not anymore. Never again, Rodney, I promise you.”

Rodney leaned back just enough to be able to meet John’s eyes and the conviction he saw in them made his knees weak. “You too.”

John smiled and Rodney returned it hesitantly, then more broadly as John kissed him gently on the chin.

<.<.o.>.>

“This is going to upset you,” John stated as they approached the location of the crime scene.

“Not just me,” Rodney murmured.

“I was military,” John reminded him and then shook his head before Rodney could argue. “But yes, it does and will upset me. If at any point it ceases to upset me, I will retire.”

“Good policy,” Rodney said, pleased.

John didn’t get the chance to answer before that as they arrived at the small alley in the backstreets of Quebec City.

Rodney felt the air go still around them and he frowned. There were none of the usual agents or cops around, not even Jennifer was there examining the bodies. No gawkers… no anyone.

“John,” Rodney whispered urgently.

John didn’t answer and, when he turned to look, Rodney saw no one. He took a startled breath, but told himself not to panic. Almost nervously, he felt for his bond with John and sighed in relief as he realized it was still there.

Closing his eyes, Rodney pulled at the bond, trying to determine the location of his Sentinel. The bond thrummed back at him, worry and anticipation coming from the other end.

Rodney opened his eyes to the sight of a dark-colored Apolomado falcon. It blink golden eyes at him and then the soft touch of familiarity overwhelmed him.

“John,” Rodney said, reaching out, except his hand had become a paw and then he was looking at the falcon from the ground, white fur swishing in the breeze.

The falcon hopped closer, bringing its beak forward to gently tap at Rodney’s muzzle.

The world blinked.

Rodney shook his head, trying to clear the mist. He saw John, human John, in front of him, his gun tracking a dark shape. Without any thought as to what had just happened, Rodney jogged to him and put a hand in the small of his Sentinel’s back, grounding him.

John’s shoulders sagged against him briefly. “Rodney,” he said with naked relief in his voice.

“Are you okay?” Rodney asked.

“Am I okay?” John glanced at him, though he still kept most of his attention on the dark spirit. “That thing consumed you,  _Rodney_. You vanished.”

His Sentinel’s voice broke briefly. Rodney rubbed a small circle in his back, a comfort. “I think it took me to the spirit world,” he confessed. “I saw your spirit guide.”

John froze. Seeing the opposite pair’s spirit guide indicated a very deep connection, one that shouldn’t be possible just a couple days after first bonding. “Oh.”

Rodney grinned and turned his own attention to the ghost. “It’s a shade. Attracted here by the grief of the family’s death, I’ll bet.”

“I tried to shoot it,” John paused, hefting his gun higher as the shade moved in their direction. He shifted so he was slightly in front of Rodney. “But then it swallowed you and I didn’t want to risk…”

“Hey, I’m okay,” Rodney said. He thought that perhaps the only reason John hadn’t gone feral was that their bond hadn’t detected distress enough to push John over the edge.

“How do we kill it?” John asked, his relief giving way to anger at the shade.

Rodney shook his head. “We can banish it,” he told his Sentinel. “But there is no way to kill a shade.”

John opened his mouth as if to argue, but then a voice sounded all around them. “ _S’il vous plait_. _Laissez-moi tranquille_.”

“ _Nous sommes désolé_ ,” Rodney told it. “ _Nous ne comprenons pas_.”

“ _Va-t’en_!” the shade cried. “ _Va-t’en_!”

“ _Du calme_!” Rodney yelled back. “ _Nous sommes là pour vous aide_.”

The shade wavered, uncertain if Rodney was telling the truth, that they really just were there to help. Rodney chose the opportunity to grasp at the energy around it and forcibly push it down, a technique he thought was kind of like making someone very angry sit down.

It was a calming method, of sorts, and here it faded the spirit slightly. Besides him, John shifted again, obviously confused as to what was going on. “Rodney?”

“Put your gun down,” Rodney told him. “It’s not going to do anything here.”

John looked at him for a moment, then nodded. He holstered his gun, locking the safety with a practiced movement. “I don’t like this.”

Rodney scowled at him. “We’re a team,” he reminded his Sentinel. “Sometimes, you will shoot things or sense danger and be badass about it. Other times, I’ll use my own abilities to save the day, okay?”

John blinked at him and Rodney shook his head, sighing. “ _Bonne nuit_ ,” he told the spirit calmly. “ _Reposez en paix_.”

The shade cried an inhuman screech, but Rodney had already pushed his energy against it, containing it with his strength and just a touch of his goodwill and the shade vanished completely.

“I’m not weak,” Rodney said as they both stared at the spot where the shade had been that now contained the bodies of the family that had been killed. “I’m may be your Guide, but I’m not totally submissive to you.”

“I never thought you were,” John told him. He turned so that he and Rodney were facing each other completely and put a hand on Rodney’s cheek. “But your safety is and always will be my primary concern.”

Rodney melted a bit. “I know. I’m sorry that thing took me, if just for a moment, but John…” he leaned forward and gave his Sentinel a soft kiss. “I impressed that you didn’t go ballistic on me.”

“Trust me,” John murmured. “It was hard to hold back.”

Rodney nodded. He could feel the tension still just under his Sentinel’s skin. He stepped closer and let John tuck his face into the crook of his neck. Slowly he stroked his hair and mumbled softly under his breath, centering both of them back into their bond.

“How are your levels?” Rodney asked, suddenly worried.

“Fine,” John shrugged against Rodney. “You speak French.”

“I’m Canadian,” Rodney told him.

John lifted his head, hazel eyes practically glowing. “That’s kind of hot.”

Rodney gaped, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or not, when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Rodney?” Jennifer called. Rodney turned, letting his Sentinel maintain full body contact as he did so.

Their medical examiner and several other agents stood at the front of the alley, looking extremely confused.

“What happened?” one of the agents asked. “When did you get here?”

Rodney frowned. “There was an anomaly.” It made sense, he thought, that the shade had trapped the others too. Only John and Rodney, with their abilities, had been able to get out of its hold for long enough to hear it speak.

“It’s gone now,” John said. “We should look at the Porter family.”

Jennifer went immediately to the bodies. She’d been Rodney’s friend too long to be stopped by freak occurrences. One of the younger agents stopped in front of John and Rodney. “Alison Porter is nowhere to be found,” he said.

Rodney sighed, suddenly feeling very tired.

“We’ll find her,” John promised. “And the others.”

The agent smiled, the newness in his eyes a testament to his belief in John’s words. Rodney closed his eyes, the last remnants of the shade’s energy passing over him like a whispered word. “ _Mort_.”

 

**New York City, USA**

The airport crowds bustled behind them as Rodney and John entered into the tent that had been erected around the body of a young business man. Kavanagh had been about to take a private jet when he’d been killed and now his plane and the pilot were missing.

“Are you sure we have no way to track that plane?” Rodney asked.

“It disappeared somewhere over Florida,” Caldwell said. His arms were crossed and his eyes dark. Rodney was reminded that this was only the second victim he’d seen from these demons.

Rodney sighed, scrubbing roughly at his face. “John, what can you smell?”

“Just the same,” John growled, shaking his head. “Death and leather.”

“Leather?” Caldwell asked.

“It’s what the demons smell like,” John shrugged. “It doesn’t really help us, it’s a faint scent and I’m not even sure a mundane would notice it.”

“I see,” Caldwell said.

Rodney grimaced. This wasn’t the best case for a Sentinel, in the end their big break might be down to luck as much as to either John or Rodney’s abilities. All they could tell from any given scene was the same they could tell from the first: the murderer was a demon, a couple of nasty demons, who fed from their victims life force.

And that it was  _wrong_. That they weren’t from this dimension, probably, except searching for any anomalies of that kind had come up with nothing which made Rodney think that the initial entering into this dimension had been done in a rather rural area.

That really didn’t help, though.

He paced away from both Caldwell and his Sentinel, thinking. The demons had all come from their original point of entry to DC. There, they killed a college student and took another. At least one of them would have had to return with that girl.

Then they Chicago and killed the family and grabbed Alicia Vega. Again, one would have had to return to their base. Houston, San Francisco, Hong Kong…

Wait, Rodney stopped. “John.”

“Huh?” John turned to him. “You have something.”

“Maybe,” Rodney frowned. “Only one person was killed in DC. Then in Chicago, four were killed. In Houston, again, many of the NASA workers were fed on before the building burned.”

“So?” Caldwell asked.

Rodney glared at him, waving for quiet. “Again in San Francisco, only one was killed, but in Hong Kong…”

“You forgot Honolulu and Berlin,” John pointed out.

“Yes, right, Hawaii only had one death, but Berlin was an entire tour bus,” Rodney said. “Then again in Dubai, just one and in London, just one.”

“And in Quebec, three,” John stated. “Now here, just one. Dammit.”

“We’ve been looking at passenger records trying to find a group of people or even a single person who has been to all these cities,” Rodney said to Caldwell. “But we’re pretty sure that there’s more than one demon. The thing is… not every demon has been to every location.”

“The one that attacked the college student in DC then went to San Francisco,” John said. “But the group in Chicago went to Houston.”

“But what of the long gap between, then, if that single demon went from DC to San Francisco to Honolulu,” Caldwell asked.

“Because the demon has been going back to drop off the stolen woman,” Rodney said. His eyes widened. “John, my laptop.”

John reached for Rodney’s briefcase and pulled out the computer. Rodney took it with a smile of thanks and opened it, quickly typing in his passcode. He set it on the medical table.

Jennifer didn’t even make a mark of protest, she was just as enthralled as the other agents with what Rodney was doing. John looked over his shoulder.

Rodney quickly typed in an algorithm to track the passenger names. He tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for his laptop to complete the search.

The answer pinged back barely a minute later.

“There, yes!” Rodney cried. “Todd.”

“Todd?” Caldwell walked up, coming to stand over Rodney’s other shoulder.

“Todd, he was in DC and then flew to San Francisco. He had a layover in Chicago on the way, which is where he probably picked up Alicia Vega, and then from San Francisco he flew back with all three females to…” Rodney paused. “Brazil.”

John continued. “From Brazil, he flew back to Hong Kong, this is a day after the reported deaths of the embassy members. He probably picked up Teldy and then he had a layover in Dubai.”

“Where he fed on the single security guard,” Caldwell nodded. “Then back to Brazil?”

“Got it in one,” Rodney nodded. “And here, now I can take flights from Brazil to Chicago to see…”

“Steve, Bob, and Joe?” John said dryly. “Not very creative, are they?”

“They don’t have to be,” Rodney reminded him.

“Where are they now?” Caldwell asked, already reaching for his phone.

Rodney tapped a few keys. “They flew here. They were the ones who took the jet.”

“Even though they only fed on one?” John frowned.

“They were probably full,” Caldwell muttered. “So we don’t know where they are.”

“But we have a location on the missing women,” John said, straightening. Rodney closed his laptop and placed it back in his briefcase. “And at some point they’ll probably come back to join their friend.”

Caldwell nodded. “I suppose you’ll be needing a flight to Brazil. What city?”

“The capital,” Rodney said. “Brasilia. From there… we’ll have to track them.”

“I’ll gather a strike force,” Caldwell said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Rodney felt his heart hammering in his chest. John turned to him and put a calming hand on his shoulder. “Good job, Rodney,” he said. “You did it.”

“It’s not over yet,” Rodney reminded him.

John grinned. “Not yet.”

 

**Brasilia, Brazil**

Once they’d landed in the main Brasilia airport, following the stench of death had been relatively easy for John. Rodney made sure to keep skin contact with him, just to make sure he wouldn’t zone, but he wasn’t very worried.

They walked together like that along the streets, ignoring the stares the native Brazilians gave. Their search led them to a side street near the airport where a man lay dead on the side of the road.

“He’s been fed on,” John said, stating the obvious. He knelt down and began to look through the man’s clothes. After a moment he pulled out a wallet and flipped through it. “He’s a cab driver.”

“You got a company name?” Rodney asked.

“Yeah,” John said. “Let’s go.”

Fifteen minutes later, they stood facing the manager of the Brasilia branch of the taxi company. The man swore at them in Portuguese for a moment. “Demon you say?” he said finally in a heavily accented voice. “You say a demon stole Paulo’s cab?”

“Yes,” Rodney said, gritting his teeth at the disbelief in the man’s eyes. “I know you have a way to track it. We need to know where it is now and where it’s going.”

“And why should I help you Americans,” the manager spat. “You are nothing to me. Thinking you can come into my country and demand from me confidential information.”

“I’m Canadian!” Rodney threw his hands up in the air.

The man’s face flashed with anger. “Listen here you little-” he stopped abruptly as John stepped in his way, growling ferally.

Rodney paused. “John,” he murmured. “He didn’t mean to threaten me.”

“Do not speak to my Guide as if he is less than you,” John said, puncturing each word with a loud growl.

“ _Protetor,_ ” the manager murmured, his stance suddenly much less hostile. He bowed his head. “I apologize, Guardian.”

John stepped back, letting Rodney calm him with a steady touch to his shoulder.

“Paulo really is dead?” the manager asked suddenly.

“We will avenge him,” John promised, his growl less prominent now. “But we need your help.”

The Brazilian glanced between him and Rodney and finally nodded. “ _Sim_ , I will help you.”

<.<.o.>.>

“Something’s on your mind,” John said, swerving into the other lane to bypass a car going just below the speed limit. The GPS tracker the cab manager had given them beeped from the dashboard.

Rodney hummed in agreement, his fingers checking his pistol deftly in preparation for what was to come.

“So?” John asked.

“It’s been bothering me,” Rodney admitted. “You… you’re very powerful John. I mean, of course you would have to be to get me as your Guide, but-”

“Rodney,” John cut him off. “Just ask.”

“I’ve always known that the more powerful the Sentinel, the most they felt the need to stick to their territory. Sure, their territory might be larger,” he sighed. “At first I thought that maybe your territory was all of the US. But then you would have never bonded with me in Dubai. A Sentinel does not bond outside of their territory.”

“You think there’s something wrong with our bond?” John asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“No, God no,” Rodney laughed. “I know there’s nothing wrong with  _that_.”

“Then you think there’s something wrong with me,” John stated.

Rodney moved his gun quickly, holstering it so that he could turn in his chair and grasp the hand John didn’t have white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “No,” he said. “I don’t care what the SGC says. I  _know_  you, my Sentinel. There is nothing wrong with you.” He paused. “Except maybe your unhealthy obsession with Johnny Cash.”

John’s lips quirked. “I’ve never understood the Sentinel drive of protecting a single territory,” he admitted quietly.

“Really?” Rodney sat back into his seat.

“It’s not that I don’t have a protective drive,” Johns aid. “When I was discharged from the Air Force, before the CIA picked me up, I felt lost. Like I had no purpose. Everyone… Rodney I feel as though the world is mine to protect.”

“The world,” Rodney repeated. It clicked suddenly, like something  _right_  had moved into place and suddenly he understood. “The Earth is your territory.”

The answer to that final mystery.

“I don’t need a single place,” John said. “I admit, earlier, even though I felt good protecting my territory… protecting the people. There was still something I was missing. I had a territory, but I didn’t have a home.”

“And now?” Rodney asked.

John glanced over at him, his eyes soft. “You’re my home,” he said finally. “You were my home from the first moment I saw you, you just didn’t know it yet.”

Rodney smiled, his heart in his throat. He brought his Sentinel’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “Caldwell and the rest of his agents are several hours behind us.” He looked out the front windshield. “We’re not waiting, are we?”

“I can’t,” John told him.

Rodney nodded. “Don’t let yourself get killed by these things, John.”

“Never,” John promised. “I can’t do my duty if I’m dead. I can’t be with you if I let them get me.”

“The same for me,” Rodney said. “You’re my home, too. My place is by your side.”

John’s hand flipped over so that it could squeeze Rodney’s. “Always.”

 

**Serra Nova Dourada, Brazil**

“I can smell them,” John said suddenly. “Fresh.”

Rodney looked around. “Where?”

“There,” John swerved off the highway abruptly. The rental car bounced over the uneven ground only to stop next to the stolen taxicab.

Rodney unbuckled his seat belt and took out his handgun, stepping out of the car carefully. From the other side, John peered into the windows of the cab and growled. “It’s empty.”

“Can you smell how many were in it?” Rodney asked. “What seats have fresh indentations?”

John paused. “Three,” he said finally.

“Steve, Bob, and Joe,” Rodney said.

“Probably,” John nodded. “Which means that Todd was already here.”

“And whoever else they have to be watching the kidnapped women while they travel the world,” Rodney pointed out.

John winced. “Right.”

“Can you tell where they went from here?” Rodney asked, though he knew his Sentinel could.

John nodded and headed off, Rodney quickly following behind. All too soon he spotted a house in the distance, a small hut really.

The Sentinel paused mid-step, his head cocking to the side. “There’s someone inside the house.”

“The demons?” Rodney stepped closer to his Sentinel.

“No,” John frowned. “No, it’s a younger voice. A kid. He’s… I think he’s talking to himself.”

Rodney blinked. “Huh.”

John glanced at Rodney, raising an eyebrow. Rodney nodded and together they traversed the rest of the distance to the small house. This time, it was Rodney who paused before they could reach the door.

“What?” John asked softly.

“There’s a strong ward around this building,” Rodney said. “Hold on, let me test it.”

John nodded and stepped back. Rodney traced the hut with his eyes, spotting the amulets hanging from the door handle. He didn’t recognize the symbols on them, but he did recognize the feeling that passed over him as he reached for them with his energy signature.

“They’re for protection,” Rodney said. “Non-harmful unless we mean the occupants of the house harm.”

“How did a civilian in the middle-of-nowhere Brazil cast that?” John asked. “That’s powerful stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” Rodney nodded. “And it requires a sacrifice.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” John asked, his hazel eyes darkening.

Rodney turned to his Sentinel and touched his cheek. “A life for the protection of another. The one who cast this ward came out knowing he or she was going to die to save the child inside.”

“That’s…” John huffed out a quick breath. “Rodney.”

“Yeah,” Rodney said. “Hello?” he called loudly.

“Go away!” a young, male voice called from the other side of the door. “I’m not coming out.”

“We’re here to help you!” John said loudly. “My name is John. I’m a Sentinel. My Guide and I are going to come in, okay?”

“Stay away!” the boy yelled. “Stop lying!”

Rodney exchanged a glance with John. He walked to the door first, slipping his gun back in the holster before stepping across the ward line. The protection spell washed over him, judging, and left him alone.

Rodney opened the door, finding it unlocked. He supposed locks weren’t really needed in this situation. John’s presence protected his back and so Rodney took a deep breath and stepped inside the dusty hut.

There was the sound of a scuttle of feet. Rodney followed the noise, John just behind him, through the small entry room where several action figures lay abandoned on the floor.

They found the boy in the room that seemed to double both as a kitchen and a bedroom. He held a dull knife their way, his hair in disarray and his body covered in a layer of grime.

“Hey, it’s okay,” John dropped to his knees. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

The boy wavered, lowering the knife. “Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m John and this is Rodney,” John said.

“You’re not a Wraith,” the boy said after a moment.

“Wraith?” Rodney asked. “The demons. You’ve seen them.”

The boy nodded, his eyes haunted. “They killed my dad.” The knife fell to the floor and fat tears began to roll down the boy’s face. “The Wraith put a hand on his chest and he turned to dust.”

Rodney felt his throat close up and he dropped down on his knees besides John. “You haven’t left this house since then?”

“Dad told me not to,” the boy said. “He said… he said that he would put a ward to p- protect me and the Wraith haven’t come in.” He sat down suddenly, rubbing his face with hands just as dirty. “I’m hungry. I can’t find any more food, but dad said… dad said-”

“Shh,” John murmured, approaching the boy slowly. He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and the kid jumped on him, curling up in John’s lap. John glanced at Rodney, looking lost as he stroked the boy’s back.

Rodney shrugged. He wasn’t good with kids, especially not kids who had to watch their father die before their eyes. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jinto,” the boy said, slightly muffled by John’s shoulder.

Rodney pulled a protein bar from his pocket. He always made sure to carry food because of his hypoglycemia and now he held it out. “Here, Jinto. You want some food?”

Jinto looked up and quickly grabbed at the bar. “Thank you,” he said, belatedly, already tearing into the wrapper.

“Look, Jinto,” John said, moving the boy off his lap and onto the floor. “We have to go get the dem- the Wraith. We need you to stay here until we come back.”

“Wah- no!” Jinto cried. “The Wraith will get you too and then I’ll be alone again!”

“I’m a Sentinel, Jinto,” John said. “It’s my job to get the bad guys. I promise, if we’re not back than someone else will be. We have friends coming, okay? They’ll take care of you.”

Jinto continued to cry, but his expression was hopeful as he nodded. “Promise?”

“We promise,” Rodney said.

“Now, can you tell us where the Wraith are?” John asked softly.

Jinto wiped off his face, smearing more dirt and now granola chunks onto it. “Where the sun sets,” he murmured. “They have a… a ship they called it. By the horizon where the sun sets.”

“Wait,” Rodney said suddenly as John stood. “How do you know English?” He was wary that this was a trap, that the kid wasn't actually a human kid despite the protective warding on the house.

Jinto looked startled. “My mom was from Florida,” he said. “My dad said he wanted me to know her language, cause she’s not here anymore.”

Rodney winced, sorry he’d asked. He pulled out another protein bar. “Here,” he said, as a sort of apology for bringing the kid’s dead family up. “Eat this one slower.”

Jinto nodded, grasping the bar to his chest as John led Rodney out with a shaking hand on the small of his back.

<.<.o.>.>

John held out a hand for Rodney to stop. Both of them had their guns out, ready to fire at the slightest sign of hostility.

Ahead of them, the almost alien looking wreckage of the… ship stood. Behind the wrecked material, a makeshift house had been constructed out of a sort of organic material Rodney thought might actually be ship parts.

It was rather disgusting.

“I hear them,” John murmured quietly. “And I smell them.”

“How many?” Rodney asked.

John breathed out through his nose. “Six that reek. Several more that don’t.”

“The women,” Rodney said. “We need to lure the Wraith out here, we can’t risk the victims being caught in the crossfire.”

“Agreed,” John nodded. “Wait, two are coming this way.”

“Well the gunfire will attract the rest,” Rodney muttered. He raised his gun, ready, just as two humanoid grunt men came around the corner of the weird base.

They had dark silver masks on and their skin was a pale green. In their hands were weird looks weapons that Rodney told himself to ignore. Besides him, he heard his Sentinel fire the first shot, hitting the one on the right in the chest.

The Wraith staggered but didn’t fall. Instead, it turned towards them with its weapon. Rodney quickly fired at the both of them, hitting their broad chests with rapid bullets.

It took nearly an entire clip from each of Rodney and John before both Wraith went down.

“Fuck,” John cursed. He quickly reloaded and Rodney followed suit. “They’re like tanks.”

“Maybe we should have waited for Caldwell,” Rodney said, but it was too late as out from under the web-like tent came several more Wraith.

These ones were dressed in human clothes and the remains of skin colored makeup was on one of their faces. There were three that rushed towards John and Rodney with vicious grins.

Rodney shot, no longer tracking his Sentinel’s location as he focused on hitting the demons before they reached them. Several of the shots went wide, bouncing off the haul of the ship. One Wraith went down with a groan, but two more still came.

“Shoot for the head!” John shouted. Rodney resisted the urge to glance in his direction and instead point his gun up, aiming for the heads.

One raise was three paces from him, its arm outstretched, when it fell to gunfire from Rodney’s left. Rodney quickly took down the other, only to run out of bullets.

The Wraith stumbled, glared with yellow eyes at him as it fell face first on the ground.

“Sorry, Bob,” Rodney remarked almost casually. He had no idea which was which, but regardless he couldn’t help but get the last word as the twitching demon grew still.

Rodney turned to see his Sentinel approaching him. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” John nodded. He reached Rodney and quickly tucked his face into his neck, breathing deeply. “You too.”

Rodney nodded, though his Sentinel could sense that he was fine. Adrenalin still rushed through his veins and after just a moment John pulled back, stepping over the dead Wraith towards the shelter. “One more.”

“One more,” Rodney repeated. He followed just behind his Sentinel, keeping his gun up though he had no more bullets. He had faith that John could defeat the last Wraith, but it wouldn’t do to be overconfident and intimidation sometimes worked best.

The last Wraith faced them, one hand hovering over the chest of a pale woman that Rodney vaguely recognized as Laura Cadman, the actress. “Who are you?” it asked in a strange hissing version of English.

“John Sheppard,” John said, lifting his gun to aim towards the Wraith’s head. “And this is my Guide, Rodney McKay.”

“Guide?” the Wraith paused. His eyes flickered between the two of them before something seemed to clear on his face. “He is your Queen.”

“What?” Rodney asked.

“You must understand,” the Wraith stated, speaking only to John. “We needed a Queen. We have been lost from the Hive and without a Queen we are very little.”

“So you kidnapped these women?” John asked. “Had you asked for help we could have helped you get back to your… your Hive.”

The Wraith hissed. “Why would we ask help of our food?”

“Todd,” Rodney paused, “you are Todd, right?” The Wraith glared and Rodney took that as a sort of agreement. “So you do eat humans,” Rodney continued.

“We do not eat you,” Todd said. “We cull you.” He grinned, as if he’d said some sort of joke.

“How did you even get here in the first place?” John asked.

The Wraith did not answer.

“Okay, another question,” Rodney said, wondering if he could talk to the Wraith enough to cause it to move its hand away so that John could shoot it. “If you need a Queen, but humans are food, then why choose humans as your candidates?”

The Wraith grimaced. “It is not… preferable. But necessary. For temporary relief.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Rodney muttered and he saw John scowl.

“How ‘bout this,” John said. “You step away from the lady and I won’t shoot you. We’ll even help you get back home.”

Todd hesitated so long that Rodney had to stop holding his breath for the answer. Finally, he nodded, dropping both hands. His eyes were wary as he approached, and then his whole body seemed to jerk as he neared Rodney.

Rodney stiffened as Todd’s eyes moved to him, far more interested now that he was closer. “You are like a Queen,” he said. “You have… power beneath.”

“Stay away,” Rodney told him as Todd began to move closer.

John growled, already halfway to feral. “Do not come any closer to my Guide.”

Todd hissed and then suddenly he wasn’t feet away from John, he was inches. “You are not worthy of a Queen of his power,” he said, hand already descending on John’s chest.

Rodney shot, only he had no bullets and his gun made a soft clicking sound. He threw it aside, already rushing as if he could pull the Wraith off his Sentinel with just his hands, but then Todd fell backwards, crashing to the ground.

Rodney’s ears belatedly registered the sound of the gunshot, but he ignored it as he reached his Sentinel. “John.”

“I’m okay,” John said, grasping at Rodney. “He didn’t even penetrate my suit.”

Rodney gasped a laugh. “Yeah, fuck. You’re… you’re okay.”

From the entrance of the organic tent a throat cleared. Rodney and John both turned to look at Caldwell, the gun in his hands still raised. “If you’re done…”

“Sorry,” John said. “They’re all here,” he jerked his head to where the woman were huddled in cocoons. “I can hear their heartbeats, they’re all alive.”

Caldwell’s shoulders relaxed. “Good.” He shook his head. “What were you two doing going in without backup ready?”

“It’s our duty, sir,” John told Caldwell with dark eyes.

Caldwell scowled, but nodded. He began to wave his agents in to clean up the mess and de-cocoon the kidnapped women. Rodney watched the procedure for a moment, still in his Sentinel’s arms. He wondered what had brought the Wraith to their dimension, and how it had caused them to go insane enough to seek out a Queen in human women.

And in human women with no Guide genes. Rodney wondered if they would have eventually killed all the ones they had captured and gone searching for more until they’d discovered that tidbit.

A small part of his brain asked if perhaps the Wraith were related to Sentinels, but he quickly pushed that away. John and Todd were so dissimilar that it hardly seemed a worthy thought.

“What about the boy, Jinto?” Rodney asked suddenly, remembering.

“Doctor Keller is with him now,” Caldwell said. “He says he has a godmother, Teyla, who lives outside of Rio de Janeiro. Hopefully she’ll be able to take him in.”

“Poor kid,” John murmured.

“You saved his life,” Caldwell said. “The both of you. That has to count for something.”

Rodney turned his eyes on his Sentinel and smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I think it does.”

 

**District of Columbia, USA**

“You’ve done a great service to our country,” the President said, clapping John on the shoulder and nodding his head to Rodney.

Rodney smiled at the American leader, fiddling with the medal on his chest. John clasped his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

The President cleared his throat as he turned back to the gathered crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen. I give you, Alpha Sentinel John Sheppard and Alpha Guide Rodney McKay. May we all give them our thanks.”

The crowd cheered loudly. Rodney flicked the bond between him and John. “Levels?” he asked softly.

“I turned hearing down,” John replied. “Thanks.”

Rodney shuffled closer to his Sentinel. “It’s what I do.”

John grinned and waved at the people below the stage. Rodney smiled, glad the nightmare of a case was finally over.

Though, in the end, he couldn’t really regret it considering it had brought him to John. Maybe it was selfish of him and he will forever mourn those who’d died on the case, but for John… well he was a better person for John, a better Guide and a better agent. Maybe they’d make up for all of it in the future.

They could at least try.

Later, at the White House gala, Rodney turned to see Weir approaching him and John with a wide smile on her face. “Sentinel, Guide,” she greeted.

“Weir,” Rodney inclined his head. John shifted to put an arm around Rodney’s waist.

“I was wondering if you gentlemen had time to sign the registration paperwork,” Weir stated. “I brought it with me.”

Rodney glanced at his Sentinel and shrugged. “I don’t mind.” Softer, so that only John would hear him. “Anything to get a break from this dog and pony show.”

John laughed and nodded. “Lead the way, Elizabeth.”

Weir walked them to a side room off the main ballroom floor. “The President gave me leave to use this temporarily,” she explained. “He was surprised to learn you two were not registered.”

“We’ve been busy, as you know,” Rodney said.

“Of course,” Weir nodded. She separated a stack of papers into two and handed one stack to each of them. “This is just the standard registration forms. I’ve filled them all out so all you have to do is read over them and sign your names.”

Rodney flicked his eyes quickly over the document, making sure he wasn’t promising anything he or his Sentinel did not agree with. After a couple minutes, he grabbed a pen and scribbled his signature. Moments later, his Sentinel copied him.

“Fabulous,” Weir said. “Now, I just have one more question and you’ll be all set to rejoin the party.”

“Go ahead,” John nodded.

“On the matter of your territory,” Weir stated. “Have you decided on San Francisco, or perhaps DC? Or Canada, though I’m sure the President will be a trite upset,” she grinned, as if it were a joke.

Rodney felt John put a hand on his shoulder and he pulled back a chuckle.

“Our territory is no single city, Elizabeth,” John said.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Weir blinked. “Then… the area?”

“The world,” Rodney stated, bored already of the discussion.

“The world is ours to protect,” John continued.

“You can’t be serious,” Weir laughed, though it tapered off as Rodney and John both raised eyebrows at her. “The entire planet?”

Rodney nodded. “The entire planet.”

 

**San Francisco, USA**

“I don’t suppose you’ve picked up Madison’s present?” Rodney asked, swiping off the last bit of shaving cream on his face.

“It’s all wrapped and everything,” John said, brushing past Rodney as he plopped his toothbrush back in the holder. “Already turning eight,” he shook his head.

“I know,” Rodney said. “And I missed the first six years of her life.”

“Hey,” John touched Rodney on the neck. “You’re making up for it now and that’s what counts. Jeannie and Kaleb understand.”

Rodney huffed, but nodded. “Jeannie asked me the other day if I thought Madison was ever going to come online.”

“Did you tell her it’s not something anyone can control?” John asked, making room as Rodney stepped out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen.

“I did,” Rodney said. “Hopefully she’ll spend a long time as latent before the Guide gene activates.”

“You don’t want her hurting,” John stated.

Rodney turned his gaze to his Sentinel. “I was online for more than two decades before I met you, John. I don’t regret it, because it made me who I am, but I don’t want Madison to have to go through that.”

“I know,” John murmured, pulling Rodney closer.

Rodney went easily, tilting his head up to accept a kiss. John obliged.

There was a knock on the door and Rodney grimaced into John’s mouth before pulling back. “Who is it?”

John cocked his head. “Woolsey. He’s on the phone with Caldwell.”

“They should just get married and be done with it,” Rodney muttered as John went to go open the door. He thought personally that the now director of the FBI and assistant director of the CIA were a bit too close to be just friends.

“Director Woolsey,” he heard John greet and Rodney sighed, walking into the entrance hallway.

“Sentinel John, Guide Rodney,” Woolsey said. “I told you, please call me Richard.”

Rodney kept his face blank, but inside he scowled at the idea of using Woolsey’s first name. By John’s sly grin, he’d caught onto that.

“Would you like something to drink,  _Richard_?” John asked. “Some coffee, maybe, or tea?”

“No, no I was on my way to the airport, actually,” Woolsey said. “Steven- ah, Director Caldwell called to tell me that he needed you two to debrief with him. There’s a situation in Egypt brewing.”

Rodney and John sobered immediately, exchanging a glance. “We’ll do what we can,” Rodney said.

“I have faith,” Woolsey smiled. “And so does the world.”

John shrugged, embarrassment in the flush of his cheeks. “Just doing our duty.”

“I know,” Woolsey said, turning back to return to his car. “Good luck, High Alphas.”

Rodney winced at the nickname. “I’ll call Jeannie and tell her we might be late to Madison’s birthday party.”

“I’ll start packing,” John nodded. He paused, though, and instead of walking toward the bedroom he grasped Rodney’s chin and directed it to another kiss.

“What was that for?” Rodney asked, amused as they separated.

“Nothing,” John said. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

Rodney smiled and rested his forehead against his Sentinel’s briefly. “The feeling is mutual, John.” He gave John another soft kiss. “Now, we have a world to save.”

John grinned.


End file.
